


From Whence We Came

by FiliaNoctisPulchris



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Bittersweet, Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), I Don't Even Know, M/M, Magic Robbie Rotten, Mixed Lore, Selkies, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 23:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiliaNoctisPulchris/pseuds/FiliaNoctisPulchris
Summary: Sportacus comes to Lazytown, and finds that one of its citizens is not all he appears to be.  The waves come in, the tides go out, and somewhere in between, there is magic.





	

Once he’s arrived, it takes Sportacus about two days to realize that his is not the only magic in Lazytown.  There’s something else, something that fits so flawlessly into the salt air off the ocean that he feels it rather than smells it.  It’s something he’s never encountered before.  He considers writing to Nine about it, but decides not to, more for his own pride than anything else.

Besides, the other magic is not doing anyone any harm.

Sportacus learns to ignore the salt-sting in his nose, and the slight prickling at his bare skin.  He teaches the children of Lazytown to eat their fruit and vegetables, to exercise, and to get a healthy amount of sleep.  He saves the citizens of the town, young and old, from any peril they may find themselves in, and foils Robbie Rotten’s plans to eliminate sports.

He’s never really been that fond of puzzles, so as long as it’s not bothering anyone, Sportacus is going to leave it alone.  It’s Robbie that makes him curious about magic again. 

Sometimes it’s all too obvious to Sportacus when Robbie is dressed up as a pirate or a cowboy, though the children seem to fall for it every single time.  There are times when Robbie has just put on a different set of clothes, and maybe some fake facial hair or a wig to cover his hair.

Then again, there are times when Robbie appears to have slipped into a new skin, and even Sportacus is fooled until something shifts.  There is no glamour, even on these occasions.  There is just a stranger, who peels back a layer and is suddenly Robbie.  Sportacus genuinely has no idea how the man does it, except by some magic he does not understand.

It takes Sportacus an embarrassingly long time to put the two mysteries together and understand that they are one and the same.  There is only one other signature floating around Lazytown, and the smell of the sea is always the strongest when Robbie is out in disguise.  Robbie, who has new costumes and new machines every few days despite never leaving his bunker, and who was instantly threatened the moment another of the huldufolk  appeared in the town. Robbie, who either can not or will not fit in with the rest of the town.

By then, he’s been watching Robbie for a while, and has seen the man look so sad when the disguises come off that it breaks his heart.  He’s seen Robbie try to close his eyes and ears to the happenings of the town, and heard the harsh, hissing breaths that roll out of him like waves when he’s angry or frustrated or just tired.

If he writes to Nine now, weeks after arriving, the older elf will never let him live it down.  No. Sportacus will figure it out, eventually.

* * *

He makes no progress for some time, and ends up just watching Robbie in the hopes that something will happen, or a lead will reveal itself.  This works, eventually, but mostly because the plan is tailored to his investigative skills: waiting until he lucks into something that’s simple enough that he can actually figure it out.

Today, Robbie is playing pirates with the kids.  Sportacus can see it’s him—the magic isn’t too strong today—and his play sailing is easy, as if he’s done it for real.  Grey eyes, usually so flat, glint silver and reflect some of the green of the ocean.

It’s a hot summer day, and Robbie has been keeping the children in town in his ship-on-wheels, digging for treasure and mock fencing with balloon swords.  A few times, they’ve asked to head down to the sea, to cool off, but Captain Rottenbeard always has something else to do.

“Don’t you want to find the other piece of that stone?” he asks, and they do.

“Maybe we should pillage the gardens,” he suggests, and tacks on, “To find some lunch,” when the children seem suspicious.

Sportacus drops in for a while to play when Captain Rottenbeard declares that the children have worn him out.  Robbie curls up on a bench nearby, pulls his hat over his face, and tries to nap for a while, and Sportacus sets up an obstacle course around the ship and the nearby walls.

They cannot avoid swimming forever, and Sportacus doesn’t really even want to. It’s just so obvious that Robbie wants nothing to do with it.  The man’s resolve looks to be wavering, though, Eventually, he gives in.

Robbie lets the children pull him down the rocky shore, grumbling the whole way and reminding them to watch their footing, until they reach the beach.  Sportacus watches the children run into the waves, ready to dive in after them if necessary, and laughs along as they splash.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Robbie pull off his boots and step barefoot into the surf, eyes closed and expression troublingly blank.  Robbie stands, barely ankle deep, for a long while, the sea breeze pulling at his hat and at the ruffles of his coat, and the waves soaking the bottoms of ridiculous striped leggings.  Time freezes around him, it seems, and Sportacus is frozen too, watching.

After a space of time, a quirk of Robbie’s lips breaks the moment, and the man takes a few long strides out into the ocean.  He smiles, for a second, before diving straight into a wave, and surfacing on the other side.  He just floats for a moment, completely at ease.  Sportacus has never seen Robbie like this, not even when playing pretend with the kids, which he thought the man enjoyed.  His stomach drops, unexpectedly and painfully, away from his chest, leaving a gaping hole. How has he been in Lazytown for over a month, and never seen Robbie happy?

It doesn’t last.  The ocean pushes Robbie back, deposits him on the sand, and retreats.  Sportacus expects Robbie to splutter, and complain about how silly swimming is, or how tired he is all of a sudden. He waits for the man to stomp off, embarrassed and upset.

Robbie just sits in the sand, staring back at the sea with an expression of deep betrayal.  He looks almost as gutted as Sportacus had felt a moment ago, and takes a few ragged breaths.  Sportacus looks on and swears he starts to see tears in the man’s eyes. The sight takes all the air from his lungs.

Why has his crystal not alerted him to this?  How could he have missed this much pain?

* * *

The next day, Sportacus settles the children into a game of soccer, then seeks out Robbie.  He lives underground, in a house that’s accessible only by a pipe on the edge of town.  That much was recorded in Nine’s notes.

Sportacus is a little surprised to see the metal pipe and hatch polished to a perfect silvery shine, but lets it go.  Robbie is odd about certain things.

Once he descends the ladder build into the pipe, he expects to find Robbie immediately.  He doesn’t.  Instead, he finds a mess of metal parts and machines, polished to a silvery glow, and an empty armchair.  It is cold, and damp, and all the light has an odd, slightly green tinge to it. 

When a quick scan of the place reveals no Robbie, he walks along the wall, hoping to find where the man could be.  One of his hands trails along the table next to him.

“Don’t touch my things, álfar,” Robbie hisses from behind him.

Sportacus’ hand stings, and even when he pulls it away from the table, it feels a bit like he was burned.  He turns, searching for Robbie in the shadows.

His long, straight silhouette is leaning in a doorway Sportacus had not yet seen, and only the glint of his eyes is barely visible in his backlit face.  Sportacus cannot see his expression for the darkness, but he can feel the anger roiling through the air around him.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sportacus says, raising his hands in the air before him  “I would never presume to…”

Robbie’s eyes narrow, and Sportacus knows he’s sneering.  “Oh, wouldn’t you?”

“No.  I came to help you.” He’s a little out of his depth, helping adults, but that’s no reason not to try.  “I saw you on the beach yesterday.  You’re hurting.  What can I do?”

The laughter that echoes through the underground home is unnerving and wrong in Sportacus’ ears.  “What can you do?” Robbie asks, stepping forward into the light so that Sportacus can see his expression.  A thin line of a mouth, drawn tight in withheld anger, accompanies the still flashing eyes.  He’s wearing nothing but the dark blue skin suit that sits under so many of his disguises, and against it his pale skin is striking.  The man stops just outside of Sportacus’ reach.

“What can you do?” Robbie repeats, all but spitting the words at him. “You can return what your kind has stolen from me.”

Sportacus recoils, even as Robbie turns and retreats to wherever he’d been hiding. “What?” he asks, even thought he room is dark and and he can no longer see Robbie anywhere. “I don’t know what you mean!”

“Ask Number Nine,” Robbie’s voice echoes through the bunker.  “I’m sure he remembers.”

* * *

Sportacus does write to Nine, almost immediately upon leaving Robbie’s lair.  As soon as he apologizes to the kids for not joining the game like he said he would, he’s sprinting for the ladder to the airship, and he calls for a pencil and paper before his landing platform has risen fully inside.

His stomach roils at the idea that Nine would steal anything. That can’t be right, Robbie must be mistaken.  The villain would have been young then.  It’s possible.  More possible than Nine stealing from a child.

But Robbie’s eyes glint furiously at him whenever he blinks, though, and he hears the echoes of his accusations ringing in his ears. The man demands retribution for whatever has happened to him, and the demand has lodged itself deep in Sportacus’ mind.  He hears it again and again, with the rush of blood in his ears.

Sportacus forces himself to slow down, and looks at the messy scrawl of a letter that he’s half-way through writing.  Assumptions and judgements will not help him at all, with either Robbie or Nine. Robbie is bitter, angry, and in real pain, and something caused it.  Nine might know what that something was.  To figure this out, he’ll need both of their cooperation.

He scraps the first letter, which had played out everything, and writes another.  This one is more vague, asking for a testimony rather than help.  He doesn’t mention Robbie by name, merely asks if there was an incident involving a theft while Nine was assigned to Lazytown.  One of the current residents, he writes, thinks that an elf stole something of his.

After sending off the second letter, he puts himself through a punishingly rigorous workout, then heads down into town to investigate.  The kids don’t seem to know much about Robbie, and they don’t really like him, for all that he leads them on all sorts of adventures.  He’s lazy, and sometimes mean, and always wants them to be quiet.  None of that is new to Sportacus.

One of the children mentions that they listen to Robbie sing sometimes, as the sun goes down, and didn’t Sportacus know he did that?  “He goes down to the beach and sings the strangest songs,” Stephanie says, “and we stay up behind the dune where he can’t see us.”

“Really?” Sportacus asks, already knowing it must be true. The other magic twinges with extra sadness around dusk.  “Can I come, sometime?”

The kids agree readily enough, and they end up going that evening.  Sportacus almost regrets it, when he hears the words winding out over the waves.  Robbie sings, unaccompanied but for the surf. The language is old and raw, and while Sportacus doesn’t understand all the words, the longing inherent in them twists at his heart.

That night, he flees back to the airship before the children can see the tears in his eyes.

When he asks the adults about Robbie, they all seem intensely indifferent and uninterested.  Robbie has been in town for years, since he washed up on the beach one day saying he’d been in a shipwreck.  He’d been passed around the town, living with different families until he started to cause trouble for them.  He was still a troublemaker to this day.

Mayor Meanswell remembers hosting Robbie, and says he was quiet, always incredibly quick to learn, and very clever, but he hadn’t known how to read a word when he’d first come to Lazytown.  The children had found out, and had teased him about it, apparently.  Robbie had learned, though, and put them to shame.

Bessie Busybody has the most interesting story, and honestly, Sportacus shouldn’t be surprised.  He should have gone to Bessie first.

It takes a few minutes to get her past, “Why would you want to know about Robbie Rotten?” and, “I know he’s a handsome fellow, but you aren’t actually interested in him, are you?”  The conversation snags on the gossipy tidbits, especially when Sportacus feels himself flushing while she talks about Robbie’s eyes.

Then she says something to the effect of, “You could do so much better than that grumpy good-for-nothing,” and Sportacus tells her off before he can blink.

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Sportacus snaps, his disappointed glare in full effect.  “Robbie does a lot for this town.  Arguably more than you do.  Then he goes back to his hole in the ground to remember that no one wants him here.  How is that fair?”

Bessie stares at him, eyes wide enough that they’re about to pop right out of her face.  “I’ve never really thought about it that way,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Sportacus.  “He’s just never really belonged here, so no one wanted him around.”

“What do you mean, he never belonged?”

“I mean, he’s always been different.” Bessie clearly does not like the way Sportacus has reacted thus far.  She’s turned defensive, now, and Sportacus is reminded of why he so prefers children.  “He’s smart as anything, but has no motivation.  He doesn’t work, he just, well, I don’t even know what he does.  He hides, and we don’t really seek him out, and that’s just how it’s been.”

“He’s hasn’t ever done anything that would hurt someone, though. Right?” 

Bessie seems shocked by the very idea, and that’s encouraging, but ultimately how well could she possibly know. “No!” she exclaims.  “He’s tricky, but he wouldn’t harm a fly.”

“Anything else odd?  Anything at all?”

“There was one time, in the summer after he arrived,” she starts, her confidence coming flooding back as soon as she knows something he doesn’t.  “He walked all over town, asking at every door if anyone had seen his fur coat.  We were all a bit confused, since no one remembered him washing up with anything fur, and anyway, why was he looking for it on a bright summer day?  But he was upset about it.  Said it was all he had left of home.”

Sportacus waits for the end of the story for a long moment before asking, “Did he find it?”

“I believe so, yes,” she tells him, with a firm nod.  “Number Nine was here, in those days.  I think he found it.”

Sportacus wants, for a moment, to throw his hands in the air the way Robbie does when the town finally realizes it’s him under the fake mustache.  This is exactly the information he needed, and she tacks it on to the whole dossier of useless nonsense like it makes no difference.  But she doesn’t know that, so Sportacus bites his cheek and thanks her politely for sharing, before flipping away.

The story of a Selkie searching for its skin rings all sorts of bells.  He’s almost kin, in the most removed sense, but beyond that, any soul in need of help has always called out to Sportacus.  In the back of his mind, a voice whispers, “Robbie”.  Pieces start to come together.

That night, Sportacus is alone behind the dune, listening to Robbie sing his strange songs to the waves as the sun sets.  He wonders if it’s just the distress that draws him to Robbie, or if Bessie, for all her ridiculous assumptions, might have been a little bit right.  Are those eyes always in his mind because they're unhappy, or because he thinks on some level that he’s the remedy? Sportacus stands frozen, lips parted slightly in awe, and tunes out his own thoughts to listen a bit closer.  Maybe, now that he knows, he will have more insight. 

He doesn’t. Instead, ghosts of a harmony float through his mind, the words in elven and far too personal for Sportacus to ever consider saying aloud.  He ignores his bedtime to stay, and has to duck behind a rock so that Robbie doesn’t catch him on his way back home, but learns nothing new.

* * *

It’s three full weeks before he receives a reply from Nine.  The yellow paper airplane is waiting for him on the desk when Sportacus returns to the airship one evening.  Sportacus had meant to wash up and maybe read a little before bed, but as soon as he sees the letter, his plans change.

As he reads, his heart sinks. 

I do know what Mr Rotten is referring to, and I am so sorry that you have been caught up in this business.  I am not proud of my actions, in this case, and it was difficult, but necessary. The Finfolk are dangerous, Ten.  I did what I had to do to protect the town.  
Do not let him bewitch you.

It reads like an admission of guilt, and he had not been prepared for that. He admits to nothing, but Nine was clearly involved, and, in his own words, had to do something for the good of the town, no matter how hard it might have been for him.

Nine called Robbie Finfolk, not Selkie.  The Finfolk take people.  That’s all Sportacus can remember about them from his too-long-ago lessons.  If Nine had suspected that Robbie was one of them, that he wanted to kidnap townsfolk…

Sportacus sits in the middle of the floor, and lets his hands tangle into his hair, pulling slightly against his scalp.  It couldn’t be, the Robbie he’s seen would never do such a thing. 

Grey eyes in the darkness flash through his mind, and a shiver runs down his spine. Nine had thought so, and was warning Sportacus even now that Robbie was dangerous.  Nine was thorough, hated loose threads, and would have left no chance of Robbie leaving the town.  If he’d truly found Robbie’s seal-skin, for what else could the fur coat Bessie had talked about be, he would have either destroyed it or kept it with him.  
If Nine still had it, Robbie would be following him wherever he went, trying to get it back.

As Sportacus reaches the obvious answer, his insides twist.  Nine had probably just thrown the skin on a fire, and let it burn away.  That was the only way he could ever be sure that Robbie would never take anyone back to the sea with him.  It would have been hard, as he’d said, but Nine would have seen it as necessary.

It also left Sportacus with no way to help Robbie, short of being the friend Robbie doesn’t want, and giving the support and comfort that he rejects.

* * *

As he looks back, Sportacus realizes he hasn’t been all that great of a friend to Robbie anyway, and resolves to do better.  The shock and horror on Robbie’s face the first time Sportacus catches him is a little insulting, until he takes into account that no one has ever even tried to save Robbie before.  The growled, “Put me down,” is just the man not knowing how to react.

After that, Sportacus makes sure that Robbie is on his list of people to check on, and Robbie gradually moves on from completely rejecting him, and grudgingly accepts the help.  Sportacus has yet to hear any gratitude from the man, but that’s okay.  They’ll get there.

For a while he treats Robbie almost like a wild thing.  Sportacus plays along with his disguises, waits for the game to unfold, and when things start to go wrong, he gently pulls everyone out.  If he needs to approach Robbie, or pull him out of a crazy soccer robot, or rescue him from off the top of the billboard, he does so slowly, hands out and open for Robbie to either take or push away.  Slowly but surely, Robbie starts to meet him in the middle.

Sportacus is entranced by the way Robbie so deftly manipulates the children, and sometimes even their guardians.  Robbie will have some dastardly plan to make everyone be lazy or quiet, or generally unhealthy, but underneath, there will be a lesson for the children.  Sportacus was trying to teach good habits purely by positive reinforcement, the way he knew how, but Robbie, clever Robbie, could not possibly be alive if he was living as unhealthily as he made the children think.  He took their dislike, probably under the assumption that he would have it anyway, and became the model of all bad habits and cheats that end badly.

Today, the kids want to be scouts and go camping, for instance.  Robbie has basically nothing with him, and Sportacus is pretty sure that this whole debacle is meant to end up with him and Stephanie bounding up to Robbie’s group with all the things they need, and a lesson about being prepared.  If not, Sportacus will at least be able to spin it into something about including everyone, and standing up for your friends, because Stephanie has already been jilted from the group.

The storm that blows in comes out of nowhere.  It’s a normal day in Lazytown, and suddenly, an ocean storm is barreling towards them.  Sportacus feels his ears pop, and sees the wind pick up from a pleasant breeze to gusts that nearly knock the children over, and knows they need to get inside as soon as possible.

With a little encouragement, Stephanie is happy to play savior with him, and together they corral the whole group of children into the town hall. They’re all promptly wrapped in blankets and handed hot cocoa, but Sportacus is already gearing up for another rescue.

Robbie is still in the park, clinging to a tree.  The expression on his face is difficult to place as he looks at the dark clouds that are gathering out over the ocean and roiling towards the town.  Sportacus almost thinks he looks excited, but that can’t be.  Robbie is probably just trying to think of how he’ll get through this one.

Sportacus tosses him a length of rope, with a call of, “Robbie! Let go!”  The rope somehow manages to land around Robbie’s shoulders, but the man doesn’t let go.  He looks back and forth between Sportacus and the storm, as if trying to figure out which is the lesser of the evils presented to him.  Eventually, between Sportacus pulling him and his own will, he starts towards the town hall.

The rain starts as they’re just in sight of the door, and the two of them are only out in it for a few seconds, but they are drenched almost instantly.

Sportacus sprints to open the door as soon as the drops start to fall, but Robbie stops and, for just a moment, looks up into the falling rain with his arms outstretched.  When Sportacus looks back to urge him inside, he could swear he sees Robbie smiling as the water splashes into his face.

It lasts only a moment, before Sportacus leans back and pulls Robbie into the town hall.  Towels and blankets are thrown at them, and Sportacus tries to divert most of the children’s well-meant mothering to Robbie, so he can go wring out his hat without them seeing his ears.  Honestly, he should just strip out of his entire uniform, but it’s not like he can do that with the kids underfoot.

Within minutes, they hear hail bouncing off the roof of the town hall, and when Sportacus looks over at Robbie, he sees the man pull his blanket a little tighter around his shoulders, and join Pixel in tracking down some more hot cocoa.

The storm, for all it’s fury, doesn’t last long.  Thunder rumbles in the distance as the rain peters off, but soon enough, the whole group is able to emerge from town hall to see a wet, wind-swept town that smells clean and bright and new.  The kids drag Sportacus into a new game, already a bit stir-crazy from sitting in closed quarters together.  No one watches Robbie leave the blanket and cocoa behind to slink back to his bunker.

Sportacus does go and check on him, later.  It’s unusual for him, but Robbie had seemed particularly off that afternoon, and Sportacus is worried about him.

He finds Robbie curled up on the floor, still in his wet clothes from before, shivering in a fitful sleep, and wakes him as gently as possible.  Robbie still flails mightily, and nearly hits Sportacus in the face, but instead of screaming when he sees Sportacus, simply rolls his eyes and says, “Oh. It’s just you.  What do you want?”

“I just wanted to check in,” Sportacus explains, suddenly self-conscious under Robbie’s suspicious glare.  “After the storm.  I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Robbie’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head to the side.  “I’m fine.  I’ve been worse off without you checking up.  Why—”

“Robbie, you must be freezing in those wet things,” Sportacus interrupts.  He pulls Robbie up from the floor, and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“You need to get out of these, and get warm.  Can we draw you a bath?”

After a minute of blank staring, Robbie pushes Sportacus off, and points him towards the bathroom, before continuing with the buttons himself.  Sportacus starts a flow of hot water into the gigantic bathtub he finds in the other room, then returns to see Robbie sliding out of his clothes.  His mouth goes a bit dry.

Robbie is pale all over, enough that the blue of his veins shows through the skin in places, and while none of his outfits leave much of his figure to imagination, there’s something very different about seeing it bare.  The lines of skin and sinews are more graceful than the cut of any cloth could ever be, and the shifting of muscles just underneath is mesmerizing.

“I hope you turned a bit of cold water on as well,” Robbie calls.  “If my bath is too hot, I’ll be very upset.”

Ah.  That’s good.  Something to do.

As Sportacus is adjusting the water temperature down from scalding to pleasantly hot, Robbie walks behind him and reaches for a small bottle.  When he adds a bit of liquid from it to the tub, the whole room fills with the scent of the sea breeze, and the bath fills with bubbles.  Robbie dips a toe in, and raises an eyebrow at Sportacus when he sees how the taps are set.

“Is it okay?” Sportacus asks. 

Robbie responds by sliding all the way into the tub, and turning the water off a minute later.  He sinks into the bubbles, and his eyes close. Sportacus waits, torn between staying until Robbie is done and leaving now before things get too awkward, until Robbie tells him, “You can go now. I can wash myself.”

After that, he bolts, and heads straight for the airship.

* * *

Robbie is conspicuously absent from the town for the next few days.  The children tell Sportacus that this is a good thing, because Robbie isn’t being mean if he isn’t there, but Sportacus has a hard time convincing himself that going and banging on that bright silver hatch isn’t a good idea.

In a fit of inspiration, Sportacus sits the children down in a circle and tells them about how he’s been trying to be a better friend for Robbie.  “I know he’s grouchy a lot of the time,” he explains, “but if you didn’t have any friends, wouldn’t you be grumpy too?”

The younger ones seem unconvinced, but agree to try and be nice to Robbie whenever he does appear, and see if he decides to be nice back.  Stephanie and Pixel nod along, Pixel with a shrug and a comment that, “I get along with him well enough.  He just likes it quiet,” and Stephanie with a knowing glint in her eye.

After getting over his first wave of concern, Sportacus is glad of a few days without Robbie, because his thoughts are already full of pale skin and sad grey eyes.  It’s enough to distract him from his games, enough that he stumbles in between a row of handsprings and can only barely save it, and enough that he goes down to the beach that evening.  Even if Robbie is there, he’ll learn nothing, but he has to hear the songs again.

He starts going every night, and hears the strange words in his dreams when he goes to sleep. The music haunts him, follows him, until he can’t look at Robbie without hearing it.  Robbie catches him staring, sometimes, and shoots back confused glances, but Robbie has been confused and suspicious since the day he reappeared after the storm.

The children, true to their words, have started including him when he will tolerate it, and the scowls when they find out their new playmates are Robbie in disguise are less angry and more indulgently exasperated.  Sportacus and Robbie sometimes share amused looks over their heads when they are particularly obvious about it.  The day Robbie joins them for a picnic, Sportacus almost bursts with pride for all involved.

Then the sun sets, and Sportacus is back behind the dunes, listening to Robbie sing all the sorrows of the world to the sea.  Every evening, the sun sets and Sportacus relishes the pull at his heartstrings and the twist in his gut.

This goes on until, one night, he decides he’s had enough, and flips up and over the mounds of sand separating him from Robbie.  He approaches slowly, and circles around so Robbie will see him approach.  The song wavers, when Robbie first sees him there in the sand, but doesn’t stop, even when Sportacus reaches out and pulls Robbie into a tight embrace.

For what feels like a long time, Sportacus just holds Robbie against him, and Robbie curls around him and lays his head on Sportacus’ shoulder.  Eventually, the song comes to an end, and they stand together with only the sound of the waves to keep them company.

“I’m so sorry,” Sportacus says, as he pointedly ignores the damp he feels on his left shoulder.  “I wish there was more I could do.”

Robbie shakes his head against Sportacus’ neck, and hugs him back.  Sportacus just holds on, and starts rubbing circles into Robbie’s back.  He’s muttering comforting nonsense and pressing light kisses into Robbie’s hair when Robbie pulls back, eyes narrowed again.  Sportacus wipes the last stray tears away, and rubs at the salty tracks on Robbie’s cheeks.

“What are you doing?” Robbie asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Sportacus has no idea what he’s doing.  However, it seems like it might be helping a little, so he figures he might as well keep doing it.  His hands move from Robbie’s shoulders up to cup his jaw, and he manages to say, “I don’t know,” before pushing up on his toes to press their lips together.

The kiss lasts only a second, before Sportacus lets himself down.  Robbie’s eyes have closed, and he seems frozen, but his hands are still gripping Sportacus’s upper arms.  Sportacus bites his lip, feeling blood rush to his ears and pool over his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry,” Sportacus starts to say.  “That was selfish of me, and I…”

Robbie’s eyes snap open, and lock with Sportacus’.  “Oh?” Robbie asks, slowly.  “I didn’t think you were capable of selfish.”

Sportacus tries to pull himself farther away, to put more space between himself and Robbie, but Robbie grabs onto him, and follows wherever he goes.

“You don’t have to—”

Robbie cuts him off by leaning down for a second kiss, just as quick and light as the first.  “Don’t you dare,” Robbie tells him, as he pulls away just far enough to rest his forehead against Sportacus’.  “We’re even, now.  If you apologize, I’ll have to, and I’m really not sorry.”

There’s just time for Sportacus to squeak out an, “oh” before they’re kissing again.  They take their time, letting their hands wander as they get used to the height difference.  It can’t be good for Robbie’s back to be bent over so much, but he doesn’t seem to like it when Sportacus tries to make himself taller.  Teeth click together as they explore each other, and Robbie’s hands in Sportacus’ hair are too good to be true.

The moon peeks out from behind a cloud, full and round and pulling the tide up and up on the beach.  Sportacus realizes how late it is, and how close he is to sleep, just as Robbie takes his hand and asks, “Stay with me tonight?”

In the moonlight, Robbie’s eyes are dark, and his hand is warm.  Sportacus lifts their hands to kiss the back of Robbie’s, and says, “Of course.”

They retreat to the bunker, stopping a few times on the way when they feel too far apart, and Robbie reveals that he has far too large a bed for one person.  Sportacus misses a few more hours of sleep, but he’s reasonably certain that he won’t be out with the children tomorrow morning anyway.  They can go one day without him.

* * *

At the lowest low of the spring tide, just before dawn, Sportacus finds Robbie curled up on a rock, just above the beach.  He’s staring silently out to sea, and clearly far, far away.

Rather than startle him, Sportacus just sits down on the rock next to him, close enough that he could shift a little and be pressed against the other man.  Robbie leans against him, and Sportacus lets his head fall to the side to rest on Robbie’s shoulder.  They sit in silence for a long time, Sportacus staring at his hands, and Robbie at the sea.

“What do you see out there?” Sportacus asks as the sun starts to rise.

Robbie sighs, and says, “Nothing.”

“Come back to bed, then?”

It takes a minute, but Robbie does follow him back to the bunker and back to bed.  They sleep for another few hours, and wake up leisurely enough that Robbie threatens to tell the children Sportacus has been lazy.  Sportacus then threatens to tell them exactly how much exercise Robbie has had in the last few days.

“You wouldn’t,” Robbie tells him primly.  “They’re kids.  The oldest is, what, ten?”

Sportacus just smirks, rolling over to watch Robbie as he walks towards the bathroom for another cloth so they can clean up. “Pixel’s twelve,” he says, when Robbie returns.  “And we’re going to have to have the sex talk eventually. Why not put a positive spin on it?”

Never mind that the whole town probably knows, at this point.  Bessie had been the one to bustle the curious kids away the time Sportacus had resurfaced, barefoot and wearing only his pants, to save the stupid kitten, and his crystal has been suspiciously silent since then.

“Well, Sportacus, you’ve put me in quite a bind,” Robbie drawls, as he wipes them both off.  “I can’t have you spreading such slander.  I’ll just have to keep you here until you forget about the idea completely.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Robbie.  It’s going to take quite a lot to make me forget something so miraculous.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

* * *

“Tell me about your home,” Robbie asks a few nights later, while they’re curled up together in his bed in the dark of the bunker.  “You elves must have your own Hildaland somewhere.  What’s it like?”

Sportacus hums a little, not really sure what to say.  “There are hidden places everywhere,” he tells Robbie, once the silence has made clear he’s waiting for an answer.  “I come from there. From the place just outside the corner of your eyes, where you can’t quite see.  I was born in a shadow, just beyond the curve of the Earth.”

Robbie sighs next to him, and Sportacus knows exactly the exasperated expression on the man’s face, without even looking up.  “I was hoping for a nice story to put me to sleep, Sportadork.  Not another riddle.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Sportacus says.  “There aren’t any words for what we don’t talk about.”

Robbie just scoffs at him, and pulls away to curl up tighter on himself.

After a minute, Sportacus rolls over, so he can lean against Robbie’s back, and hold onto him again. “I have a home now,” he says, as he presses a soft kiss to a pale shoulder.  “Can I tell you about that place instead?”

“You can tell me about anywhere on the good green earth, as long as you just tell me straight.”

“Alright.  Well, it’s not on the earth so much as in it,” Sportacus explains.  “And it’s hidden away from the rest of the town.  It reminds me of the rocks where I lived as a child, mostly hard and sharp, and you have to be careful where you step, but there are comfortable spots.”

Robbie grumbles something unintelligible, then twists around again so he can squint at Sportacus with his one open eye.  “You’re not talking about the airship.”

“No. The airship is familiar, and very much elven, and I can watch the town much better from there, but everyone can see it.” Sportacus shivers a little at the thought.  “The whole town knows where I am when I’m up there.”

“Are you talking about _here_?”

Sportacus just smiles and massages absently at the knots in Robbie’s neck until he relaxes a little more.  “It’s usually a little chilly,” he explains, ignoring the question completely.  Robbie’s quick enough to catch on.  “But that’s actually better for me.  If I need to get up and move around, I don’t get too warm.  There’s enough space to exercise, as long as I’m careful not to hit anything.  The bed is really nice, and so much bigger than the one in the airship, so I can actually stretch out on it if I want to.”

“A good bed is always important.”

“Really? You think so?”  Robbie shrugs, and Sportacus presses his forehead into the middle of Robbie’s back to stifle a laugh.  “Then why did you never use yours until I came along?”

“It was too big to sleep in alone.” Sportacus does laugh, then.  “What? You don’t have that problem, where you live?”

“Oh, no, there’s some one else who lives there, too, and we share.” Sportacus shifts a little, finding the most comfortable way to wrap around Robbie.  His mind is going a bit fuzzy, telling him he should have been asleep hours ago. “It’s his machines and things that I have to be careful not to trip over, when I’m exercising.  He likes it dark, and likes to hear the waves breaking while he sleeps.  He’s lovely.”

Sportacus can all but hear Robbie’s eyes roll. “He sounds okay, I guess.  Should I be jealous?”

“No,” Sportacus mumbles.  His eyes keep closing of their own accord, and it’s getting harder and harder to open them again. “There’s no need.  I’m the one who should be jealous, really.”

Robbie huffs, and asks, “Of what?”

“I’m never going to be enough for you.”

There is silence, after that.  Robbie lays still in his arms, breathing gently and evenly, so Sportacus pretends he believes the act.  He drifts off quickly, as it’s long past his bedtime, and leaves Robbie to whatever it is he does during the night.

* * *

Sportacus comes back to the bunker around noon the next day, after a morning with the kids, to find Robbie already out of bed and gone.  He hadn’t been on any of the benches, so Sportacus heads up and over to the beach.

He finds Robbie standing just above the high tide line, searching the waves for whatever it is he’s always looking for.

“Robbie?  Is something wrong?”

“No.”  Robbie stares resolutely away, and Sportacus doesn’t press.  “That’s the problem.  You were right.”

Well, that’s new. “I was?”

“Last night, about me.” Robbie pauses, searching for words to explain.  “You know how the stories go.  You know I’d be gone.  And you act like it doesn’t bother you, but…”

Sportacus thinks he knows what Robbie means, but he’s not about to complicate things further by asking for something he knows he cant have.  “Robbie, I just want you to be happy,” he replies, reaching a hand out, but not quite sure where to put it.

Robbie still won’t look at him. “I just… I wish you could see it.  My sealskin.  Me, complete.  It’s beautiful, even Nine said so.”

“I’m sure it is.”  Sportacus says.  “But that’s impossible.”

“Well, yes, obviously.  If I had it to show you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Robbie sighs, then gives Sportacus a long-suffering look.  “You know that.” 

Sportacus is already talking as he digests that, and the present test Robbie had used, and a new thought occurs to him.  “I do, I just…Is it still out there somewhere?” Robbie looks at him like he’s announced the sky is blue, like that’s new information. “He didn’t burn it?”

Robbie stares back at Sportacus, eyes wide, and shakes his head slowly.  “No. Gods, no. Don’t…If he had, I…I probably wouldn’t still be here.”

The implications there hurt, so Sportacus let his mind slide past them and back to the part where Robbie still has a sealskin, whole and undamaged, and apparently just as pretty as the rest of him.  “Robbie, this is wonderful.  We just need to find it, and get it back, and then you can…”

Sportacus trails off as he comes to the part of the plan where Robbie leaves Lazytown forever, never looking back and never to be seen again.  He stops, and thinks about how long Robbie has known, how long there has been hope, and how Robbie has not once even tried to reclaim the skin since Sportacus has been in town.

“I can’t get it back,” Robbie whispers, interrupting Sportacus’ thoughts.  “Your Number Nine, for all his faults, is a clever elf.  He hid it.” 

Sportacus nods, and when Robbie doesn’t seem inclined to continue, Sportacus takes him gently by the shoulders and pulls him so they’re face to face before he tries for more information.  “Okay.  Hidden is still better than destroyed.  Where would he have put it?”

“Just outside the edge of my vision,” Robbie says. He won’t look at Sportacus, and even though there is no sarcasm in his tone, Sportacus has the distinct feeling that he is being mocked.  He bristles a little, because this is not the time, and how does Robbie not see that?  “In a shadow, just beyond the curve of the earth.”

“East of the sun and west of the moon?” Sportacus asks, the words biting and strange on his tongue.  “Where the sky meets the sea?  Or at the Edge of the World? Robbie, please, help me a little.  Do you know where it is, or don’t you?”

“Of course I know where it is. It’s part of me.  You don’t have to look down to know where your feet are, do you?”

Sportacus stands, staring at Robbie in disbelief.  “You know where it is?” he asks, shaking slightly from the sudden heat under his skin.  Robbie nods, wincing a little as Sportacus’ hands tighten around his arms.  “Do you not want it back?  Have you even tried—”

“Don’t you think I would have, if I could?” Robbie sucks in a shaky breath, and turns his head to look out over the waves.  He’s trembling now, under Sportacus’ hands.  Or maybe that’s Sportacus.  Maybe it’s both of them.  “He knew exactly where it would always, always be out of reach, and that’s where he put it.”

It takes a moment, but then Sportacus understands, and all his anger drains away. It all clicks together in his mind, all the little hints, all the fear and anger and sadness and longing that cycled through those bright silver eyes.  The way Robbie looks at the sea, like he loves it and hates it all at once.  Sportacus bites back a smile, and wipes away Robbie’s budding tears with his thumbs.

“It’s alright, Robbie,” he says.  “I can do this. Wait here.”

Sportacus presses one kiss against Robbie’s mouth, then lets go. 

He runs out to sea before he can think the better of it, before he can hear Robbie yelling after him, and his first dive slices perfectly though an incoming wave.  The salt stings his eyes and the inside of his nose, and the water presses in on him from every direction, but determination has settled into his bones and stoked his inner fires.  He’ll do what he has to.

All told, it takes Sportacus nine days to return.  He swims and dives almost unceasingly, stopping only when he is too exhausted to continue. At that point, he floats, half-sleeping like the dolphins do, until he has enough energy to keep going.  When he’s hungry, he catches fish in his bare hands, and breaks their spines before eating them raw, the way his grandfather taught him.   Time blurs together.

Just as he’s starting to feel like a fool for thinking he could do this, a large seal appears in front of him, almost-familiar grey eyes glinting curiously at him.  The same seal has been following him, he realizes belatedly. They stare at each other for a long while, before the seal nods once at him and turns to swim away.  It’s back a few minutes later, looking disappointed in him, and only then does Sportacus understand that it means for him to follow.

He finds Robbie’s sealskin pinned under a rock on the sea floor, only a few leagues out from the beach.  Sportacus has to surface for air far more than he’d like before he’s finally able to free the skin, and the seal follows him up and down every time.  It trails him as he swims back to the shore with the skin in tow, watching silently.

Robbie is curled up among the rocks at the edge of the beach when Sportacus finally makes it back.  As Sportacus stumbles his way through the surf, he sees Robbie’s head lift, sees the spark of recognition there, followed by relief.  Through the echoing roar of waves in his ears, Sportacus hears yelling.

The water pulls back at him, tugs him down to his knees, but Sportacus pushes himself to his feet, and manages a few steps before his legs give out under him again.  He presses on, crawling against the waves, and throws the skin up above the high-water mark as soon as he can.  By then, Robbie is outside his vision, but he feels arms wrap around his chest, and drag him up onto the dry sand.

At some point, Robbie decides they’re safe enough, and flops down next to him. “You are out of your mind, Sportacus.  What if you’d died out there?”

“Worth the risk,” Sportacus manages.  “I found it.”

“You…” Robbie pauses for a moment, and Sportacus looks over at him to see Robbie furious.  “That’s not the point.  It’s not worth…”

There is more to the rant, Sportacus is sure.  Maybe someday he’ll hear it.  Today, though, he’s unconscious before Robbie can even work himself up to full volume.

* * *

Sportacus wakes up in the bunker, in bed.  He’s stripped down and wrapped in every blanket Robbie owns.  Even the little one with the cow on it is lying on top of him.  Robbie is sleeping in a chair next to him.

The first time he tries, his voice doesn’t work at all, but after a few minutes he’s able to produce a croaking groan that sort of sounds like, “Robbie.”

Robbie is awake instantly, tutting over him, bringing him water.  It’s a little dizzying, to be honest, mostly because Sportacus is trying to figure out why Robbie is still even here.

“Why didn’t you go?” he asks, a few minutes later.  He’d meant to be less blunt about it.

Robbie squeezes his eyes shut for a second, and swallows.  “I can’t stay much longer.  It’s been…difficult, but I couldn’t just leave. Not before you woke up.”

“Where’s your—”

“I had Stephanie put it in a cupboard.”  Robbie’s voice is strained, and he hasn’t opened his eyes.  He’s clearly uncomfortable, if not in actual pain, but here he sits. “It’s easier when I can’t see it, and I haven’t touched it yet.”

“But—”

“Neither chains of steel nor chains of love, Sportacus.  I won’t be here next time.  I barely made it this long.”

So this is goodbye, then. Sportacus nods. “Robbie, there’s no need to be miserable on my account.  I’ll be fine.  I just need to sleep.”

There is a stretch of silence between them as they watch each other.  Sportacus works a hand out from under the blankets, and reaches out for Robbie’s, just on the edge of his chair.  He’s not sure exactly what he wants with it, but Robbie feels so far away already.  Robbie, however, takes that moment to get up again, and run back to the kitchen.

“Here, before you pass out again,” Robbie says a minute later, as he pushes an apple into Sportacus’ still outstretched hand.  “Eat that.  You need energy to get better.”

“You’re pushing sportscandy on me?” Sportacus asks, smiling a little so he doesn’t look disappointed.  “Did I hit my head on the way down here?”

Robbie scowls at him, and tells him to, “Just eat it, you ridiculous elf.” 

The words aren’t angry, but there’s a tension between them.  Sportacus takes a bite, and as he chews he watches Robbie’s face.  He’s sad, still, but also happy, worried, and angry by turns, and he’s biting back words.

“How long did I sleep?” Sportacus asks him, after the apple is gone.

“Three full tides,” is the answer, then Robbie winces, and shakes his head.  “A day, a night, and another day.”

“So I should go back to sleep now, and wake up in the morning.”

“Yes.”  Robbie sighs and looks away, over towards the kitchen.  “Is there anything else I can do for you, before that?  More water? Something from the airship?”

He wants to ask Robbie to crawl in with him, and hold him at least until he falls asleep, but that would be unfair.  Sportacus snuggles himself back into the blankets and shakes his head.  “Nothing, Robbie.  You’ve done more than enough.”

“It won’t ever be enough. Not for this.”

For all that Sportacus wants to see Robbie’s expressions, he’s not sure he can watch the man be relieved when Sportacus tells him to leave. “Then do this for me,” he says as he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.  “Go home.  Go back to your seal-mate.  He misses you.” 

“I don’t have a seal-mate,” Robbie argues.  Sportacus thinks back to the seal he swam with, the one who had known him and known where to find the skin, and the reluctant hope he’d seen in its eyes as he’d pushed at the rocks and dug through the muck on the sea floor.

“Doesn’t matter.  Go.”  Robbie wants to go.  He has someone waiting out there for him.  Why is he still here?

Sportacus closes his eyes, and thinks to himself that they need to stop having these conversations when he’s so tired, before he remembers that they will.

He feels Robbie tucking the blankets in around him, and press a feather-light kiss onto his forehead.  The last thing he remembers, or thinks he remembers, before falling asleep, is Robbie’s voice in his ear.  “Be safe,” he whispers, then the words are foreign.  The lilt is familiar from the songs Robbie sings, and carries Sportacus off the rest of the way to sleep.

Robbie is gone the next time he wakes.

* * *

Days, then weeks, then months pass, and Sportacus grows used to saving the citizens of Lazytown from errant skateboards and themselves, instead of Robbie’s plans.  He finds himself still going down to the bunker to sleep sometimes, and he polishes the metal gadgetry there because something tells him that if it tarnishes Robbie will never forgive him.  

He goes down to the shore sometimes, as the sun sets, and stares out over the waves.  He doesn’t sing, because Sportacus couldn’t carry a tune in a bathtub, but sometimes he could swear he hears Robbie’s voice, crooning ancient words, and he mouths elven sentiments in response.  Other times, he sees a seal or two, out in the water, looking back at him, and waves to them.

On one of those evenings, he’s sitting on the beach, watching the waves reach up to bat at the high tide mark.  He’s contemplating the way the light and the colors of the sky play over the water, when someone walks up next to him.

Robbie is just as pale, and just as slim as he had been, but there’s a new radiance to him.  Silver light dances in his eyes, and he’s smiling in a way that Sportacus has never seen.  He’s fully naked, still dripping, and for a second, Sportacus is tempted to tackle him to the sand, to pull him close and kiss him the way he should have, that last day.  Sportacus thinks about yelling and starting a town-wide celebration, or whisking the other man away to the bunker until the townsfolk start to think he’s vanished, too.

Instead, he sits, and stares out to sea until Robbie is ready.

“You’ve been waiting for me,” Robbie says.  There’s no question, no doubt in his voice, and that alone is thrilling.  “How did you know I’d come back?”

Sportacus looks back at him and shrugs his shoulders.  “I didn’t. I missed you.”

“You did?”

“A part of me went away into the sea, and I had no way to get it back,” Sportacus tells him.  “I’m sure you know how that feels.”

“You are such a sap,” Robbie replies.

Sportacus cocks an eyebrow.  “You did come back, though.”

“I did. The sea is cold this time of year.”

They’re still not touching, and Sportacus is keenly aware of this.  The water droplets that run down over Robbie are far too distracting.  They roll over pale skin, slowly enough that Sportacus could catch them with his tongue, and taste the salt.  He turns his gaze back to the setting sun.

“You’re not back to stay, are you?”

Sportacus knows that the answer is no.  The question is a formality, a way to open a discussion and ask how long he has before he’s alone again.  Robbie can’t stay, any more than Sportacus can live with him in the sea.

Robbie takes a long, deep breath, though, and says, “I could be.”

This time when Spartacus meets his eyes, Robbie’s are cold silver, and his smile is false.  When Sportacus asks, silently, what he means, he holds out a hand, and pulls Sportacus to his feet.  The two stand, facing one another, and Robbie swallows harshly. 

He takes another deep and steadying breath, and holds out his sealskin.

Flashes of a possible future pass through Sportacus’ mind, of days and nights, of a life with Robbie always with him.  Of raising the children, because gods forbid any of the other adults in the town do any parenting.  Of always watching and waiting for the day that Robbie misses the sea more than he loves Sportacus, and of giving the skin back and hoping beyond hope that Robbie can forgive him.

“No,” Sportacus says as he pushes the skin away.  “Not like that.  I couldn’t…”

The skin falls to the sand between them, and Robbie reaches out for Sportacus before he can say what, exactly, he couldn’t do.  Sportacus still manages to meet him half-way, and they tangle together in a mess of limbs and uniform and seawater.  Robbie is salty and sweet on Sportacus’ lips, and as they kiss it feels like the axis of the world settles into place.  One kiss becomes two, then Sportacus is sucking on the skin at Robbie’s neck, lapping up the rivulets of water still running down from his hair.

“We should…ah…take this somewhere less public,” Robbie mutters against Sportacus’ ear.  “Your pups will probably come looking for you.”

He’s right, and Sportacus nods in response, but it takes them another few minutes to separate.  Sportacus bends down, before they go, to pick up the sealskin that’s still at his feet and hand it back to Robbie.  As they walk back to the bunker, around the long way to avoid exposing anything to the unsuspecting townspeople, Robbie takes Sportacus’ hand and squeezes gently.

“Thank you,” he says, in a voice so soft even Sportacus has to strain to hear it. Sportacus grins and pulls Robbie along a little faster.

They meet up with the children late the next morning, when Robbie has had a chance to find clothes and Sportacus has started to feel a little guilty for keeping the man to himself.   The kids pester Robbie with all sorts of questions about where he’s been, and Robbie tells them beautiful stories about an underwater city, lit with bioluminescence and full of colored sea-grasses that ripple through the water like the aurora Lazytown can sometimes see in the sky.  They play at mermaids for an afternoon, though Robbie scoffs a little bit at the term, and primly tells Stephanie that a mermaid would freeze in the cold northern oceans.

Robbie ends up staying for three more days.  Sportacus stays with him in the bunker, and quietly rejoices each time he wakes up curled against Robbie’s chest, hearing the rush of the surf in his breaths and the movements of the tides in his heartbeats.  They savor what time they have together, trying not to ignore everything and everyone else but not quite succeeding. 

By the end of the second day, the kids have figured out that something's up.  They don’t ask, but Sportacus can see the suspicion in their narrowed eyes.  They cling to Robbie, and drag him into their games, like they know he’s going to leave again soon, and beg, at the end of the days, for a few more minutes.  Robbie agrees every time, and Sportacus goes along for the ride.

On the fourth morning, Robbie wakes Sportacus just as the moon is setting.  His skin is in his hand, and his lips are pulled into a thin, tight line.  “I have to go now,” he says quietly.  “The tide is about to turn.”

Sportacus sits up slowly, and traces over Robbie with his eyes.  If he can memorize this image, he thinks, maybe he’ll manage another few months. “Will you come back again?”

The look Robbie gives him hurts a little, because it’s not the promise that Sportacus was hoping for.  Instead, Robbie looks a little lost.  “Will you wait?”

“Yes.”

It’s only then that Robbie smiles. “It won’t be so long, this time,” he tells Sportacus.  “Not if I know you’re waiting.”

He leans down for one more kiss, and breaths the same words into Sportacus’ ear that he’d said last time, lilting and strange.  They curl up in his heart, and Sportacus suddenly remembers that he wanted to ask what they mean.  By the time he’s opened his mouth, though, Robbie is already climbing up the pipes and out of the bunker, and Sportacus follows just quickly enough to see him wrapping his sealskin around himself, and disappearing into the dark waves.

Ah, well, he thinks.  He’ll ask next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was a ride.
> 
> I love the selkie myths, and so when a friend said to me, "Wouldn't it be cool if there was an AU where Robbie was a selkie?" I basically leapt to my feet, ran to my computer and started writing. She hadn't even meant for me to write it. But I had to. There were so many ideas that occurred to me all at once, and a number of them didn't even make it into this fic.
> 
> I told myself this one would be a 5k one-shot at first, and actually believed it for a while. Then I had to work things so I could give them the happiest ending a selkie story can manage. I also wanted to have Nine involved, but not be an absolute douche. Glanni shows up for about two seconds, I made him completely mute, and he still wanted more attention.
> 
> The Finfolk are actually a different myth, though they're similar enough to the selkies that there may be a link somewhere in the nubulous-ness of oral tradition. Basically, they're shapeshifters instead of actually seals, and they kidnap people instead of seducing them into coming into the sea (the male selkie story, which I did not use because Robbie would not do that, and because the gender dichotomy of selkie stories makes me sad).
> 
> To anyone who reads Teach Me To Sing, I'm onto that next. Probably starting ch6 tonight.


End file.
